Whips and Chess
by napoleon32
Summary: A collection of one-shots about Franziska von Karma, Miles Edgeworth, and their relationship. Fredgeworth, with peripheral Phaya and others.
1. A Near Miss

_March 22nd, 2018, 5:30am_

 _Von Karma Estate_

Franziska von Karma sat in her favorite chair, unsuccessfully trying to make the buzzing in her mind go away. She was notorious for needing very little sleep even when she was a youth, and she was never subject to the sleepiness that often afflicted teenagers. On this night, she did not even bother to lie in bed. She was too emotional to sleep, for many reasons.

First, it was the week of the anniversary of her mother's death. Even though she had died 17 years ago during her first year of life, it was still immensely painful to think of her and what she had missed out on. Her sister Caroline was able to follow the path in life she wanted in international diplomacy, but she had no choice but to be a prosecutor. Her father had made sure of that.

She wondered if that would have been different if she had not died. She was forlorn at the thoughts of all the moments she never had a chance to share with her mother. Her first steps, her first words, learning to bake (Caroline told her that their mother adored baking), riding horses. She needed to figure out how to handle her development into womanhood alone as she was too embarrassed to ask anyone on the staff for help or advice. Caroline did her best, but she was not her mother. Manfred had cowed both girls into obedience, but their mother defied him because divorce would be imperfect and she made it clear that if he abused her or the children she would expose him.

Without her protection, and with Caroline sent to the Court of St. James's as her first assignment, Franziska was defenseless. That was where her obsession with her whip came from. She had been helpless and unwillingly obedient her whole life. Now others would obey her or else. She wished that she didn't have to rely on it so much, and maybe if Mama had lived she never would have needed it.

Second, she had the stress of a major trial looming the next morning. This whole affair had been nothing short of an ordeal. The murder of a public figure like Juan Corrida had her dealing with reporters more than she was accustomed to. Perhaps oddly for someone who worked in a public position, Franziska could not stand being around large groups of people, especially the particularly foolish type that worked as reporters. But that wasn't half of her issues with this case.

Another was the defendant's manager, the pretty blonde named Adrian Andrews. Franziska knew that she had messed with the crime scene in some way to incriminate Matt Engarde, but it was truly unnecessary since everything pointed to him even away from the crime scene. Her father had always taught her to follow Occam's Razor and even though it had led her to two defeats here in America, she had yet to find a better way. She had the feeling that there was another piece to the puzzle that she was missing, but it did not interest her. She had her killer.

So she leveled with Andrews, telling her to describe the scene as she left it, and if the defense pressed her too hard, to refuse to testify further. In return, she would overlook her tampering and keep her out of jail. Andrews rather swiftly capitulated, to her shock.

There was someone about Adrian Andrews that Franziska empathized with. She couldn't put a finger on it, but Andrews' eyes bore an expression she had seen in her own reflection. Pain, loss, and humiliation. She knew she had tried to kill herself at least once. She wanted to reach out to her, but did not know how. She had never had a friend before, and was not going to risk being rejected. But she would do everything in her power to protect her. Matt Engarde was a killer, and she would not allow him to harm her any longer.

She was also livid over her discovery that Scruffy had been leaking results of the investigation to the defense. The hulking, dimwitted man had given her incomplete information regarding the Turner Grey crime scene (that was her story and she was sticking to it, damn it!). And then he had cajoled her to search Ken Dingling's apartment which led her to disaster once again. This was the very last straw. She had been betrayed by people who were supposed to be loyal to her for too long, and Scruffy was going to suffer the consequences.

But the greatest source of anxiety was that the blue suited fool Phoenix Wright had taken up Matt Engarde's defense. The man's humiliation of her in the Fey trial still haunted her dreams. Whenever he was around, she lost the ability to think clearly. The anger that gripped her soul flared hotly whenever the man spoke. Who did he think he was?! How could such a foolish man have beaten her, her father, and Miles Edgeworth?!

 _Miles Edgeworth._ The only person in the world she had ever bonded with besides her sister. She had always felt a connection with him from the day she greeted him in her father's car. She had taken it upon herself to acclimate him to the rigid routine that was life in the von Karma house. In return, he had opened her eyes to the wonders of literature. She became a voracious reader of almost anything she could get her hands on, and enjoyed discussing books with him.

Manfred saw the connection between them and started playing them off against each other as much as he could, but he could not break their bond. As a way of disguising it from her father, they started interacting over a chessboard. They would talk about anything and everything, with Manfred none the wiser as they hid it under the guise of a competitive rivalry. Miles was a greatly talented player and dominated their early matches, but Franziska improved over the years to the point that she was the only person to ever beat him while she was using the black pieces (she never let him live it down).

Even after Miles had left for England to continue his legal studies, they continued to play online daily. It was a bond that kept them sane. Franziska desperately needed to maintain at least some kind of connection to him to handle her resentment of him for leaving her alone with her father. After Miles' first loss, he confessed to Franziska during their game that he was contemplating quitting since he was now imperfect. Franziska's reply as she went up a pawn was laced with tough love (it was the only love she knew), but it greatly helped him pull himself together and continue prosecuting. Even after Manfred was revealed as the murderer of Gregory Edgeworth, they played. Franziska was devastated over what her father had done, but Miles insisted that Manfred was his own man, and his sins did not affect his opinion of her.

But after his superior was put on trial in a case he once again lost, she tried to find him online for a game but couldn't. He did not answer his phone either. She was greatly worried, but when she read the Los Angeles Times a few days later she saw five words that tore her soul out: _Prosecutor Miles Edgeworth chooses death._ How could he do that to her?! He had always known she was there for him! Why would he not tell her if he was so despondent that he was contemplating suicide?! She didn't understand.

Caroline was little help, as Franziska had never been this emotional before and Caroline had no idea how to handle it. She had always been short-tempered, but Franziska was almost totally out of control in her pain over Miles' disappearance. She had to know what had happened to him. She would uncover what drove Miles to such a drastic action, and those responsible would suffer for the rest of their days.

Two humiliating losses and one paternal execution later, Franziska was completely broken emotionally. She was becoming more and more violent and verbally abusive by the day. She knew a breaking point was coming soon, either she would completely disintegrate or something would happen to show her the way out of this whirlwind of feelings she could not comprehend. Then Miles Edgeworth dropped back into her life and proceeded to humiliate her _in front of Phoenix Wright_. She was ready to scream to the heavens in anger and hurt.

She stormed back to her home and threw a massive tantrum in the privacy of her room. After nearly thirty minutes of non-stop raging, she heard her phone go off. It was a text from Miles asking for a chess game. She angrily and crudely declined, and threw her phone in her purse to have it out of sight and out of mind. She stayed up the entire night poring over the notes and reports of the Engarde trial. He was guilty as sin. She would put his neck in the noose and Phoenix Wright would suffer the bitter taste of defeat by her hand.

When the time finally arrived for her to begin her journey to the courthouse, she was almost giddy. Today would be the day all of these demons would be exorcised from her mind and soul! She knew it! She arrived at her parking spot at 7:54 sharp, as always. She exited her car and began to walk the three blocks between her preferred parking garage and the courthouse. As she passed the small bakery and coffee shop at about the halfway point that she had taken a liking to, she heard a crack ring out and she stopped in complete shock as a projectile slammed into her right shoulder. She felt nothing for a few seconds and then the pain burst like a bomb in her brain and tore through every nerve in her body. She let out a primal, animalistic howl off pain and horror as her legs gave out and she collapsed to the pavement clutching her injured shoulder. Her purse had flown out of reach when the bullet had entered her body, and as she was crawling towards it in a desperate attempt to phone for help, she heard footsteps running towards her. Had her assailant come to finish her off? When she dared to open her eyes, she was staring into the wide, shocked eyes of Miles Edgeworth. _Why him?! Why did he have to be the one to see me like this?!_

"Franziska, talk to me! Can you hear me?!" he cried out. He was clearly filled with worry for her.

"There is no need to shout, Miles Edgeworth! I can hear you just fine," she snarled, intending to sound nonchalant about it, but the quailing in her voice gave her away. She was in _agony_.

"Are you able to walk? There is a hospital a block away," he stated more calmly than before, relieved at getting a response.

"I AM NOT GOING TO A HOSPITAL, MILES EDGEWORTH!" she screamed with all the strength she had left in her body. She could see Miles' jaw hang open slightly for a moment before it closed again resolutely.

"I shall not allow you to destroy yourself more than you already have, Franziska," he nearly growled, fixing her with the gaze that made people squirm when they were subjected to it.

Franziska was unfazed. "I will not allow you to take this away from me, you treasonous fool!"

Miles' heart broke at what had become of her over the last year. He knew she was struggling, but not like this. Franziska was always proud, but she was downright self-destructive now. And he knew that he was partially to blame. Hers was such a lonely soul, and his disappearance, he realized, had crushed her. She had no one else to truly lean on. No one who understood. Her quixotic quest to defeat Phoenix was gut-wrenching as her watched this proud, brilliant woman try so desperately to find something resembling a purpose.

"Franziska, _please_ ," he pleaded from the bottom of his soul. _I can't lose you now, not after I finally found the way of the truth. You kept me sane enough that my conscience was not completely destroyed by Manfred's poison. But I at least had memories of my father and Wright to fall back on. You had nothing but him. Please, let me help you._

His heartfelt plea apparently resonated, as Franziska's eyes softened and allowed some of the immense pain to show. "Fine," she sighed in resignation. Miles helped her sit up and then proceeded to remove her brooch, undo her cravat, and tear the cloth on her shoulder to expose the wound. It was an ugly sight, but he was able to see that there was no exit wound so the bullet was still in her shoulder.

"Why on Earth or you shredding my blouse, you foolish man?!" she growled with all the indignation she could muster.

"I'm making a tourniquet. You're likely losing a tremendous amount of blood if your sleeve is any indication," he explained coolly as he tied the cloth on the inside of her shoulder. It probably would have gotten him drummed out of Army training, but it at least slowed the blood flow and bought them some time.

Franziska chanced a glance at her useless right arm and saw that her sleeve was nearly soaked through, a sight that made her even queasier than she already was. She was used to blood, but seeing her own was causing her a greater amount of distress than she cared to admit. She finally found her voice, tiredly muttering "Very well, if you insist."

Miles placed his right arm around her back and clamped his left hand on her uninjured shoulder as he helped her rise, slinging her purse into his shoulder and picking up her briefcase. He had every intention of filling in for her whether she liked it or not. She was certainly on the right track with her suspicion of Engarde, but something was gnawing at him about the case. It was almost too tidy for such a setup, and he worried that she had cut corners on account of her obsession over beating Phoenix. Engarde was clearly the prime suspect and he believed that she and Gumshoe were right to arrest him, but he also believed there was more dirt to dig up that Franziska, trapped in the methods Manfred had taught her, likely would have ignored in her push for the guilty verdict she craved so desperately.

He heard the sirens coming and decided it would be best to get Franziska to the hospital swiftly, before the police and the press arrived. He'd handle them later, after she had received the care she needed. Fortunately Franziska was able to walk at a normal pace with his support. At first she tried to head towards the courthouse, so in exasperation he took her left hand from her shoulder, wrapped his hand around the wrist, and firmly pulled her towards the Hotti Clinic, ignoring her angered yelp of protest. He kept his hand firmly on her wrist until they arrived, knowing that she'd try to run to court if he let go. He knew her too well.

The staff quickly rushed to her aid as soon as they entered, and Miles could tell that Franziska was fading as she allowed them to sit her in a wheelchair with little fuss. As they left to prepare a room for her, he sat in a chair next to her and simply gazed at her for a moment.

She looked completely shattered, but he noticed with amazement that she had not allowed a single tear to fall. He racked his brain thinking of any way he could comfort her without pricking that damnable egotistic pride that Manfred had instilled in both of them. Glancing into Franziska's purse, he caught a glimpse of an object that would accomplish the task for him.

He carefully removed her whip and placed it into her left hand. She gazed at it momentarily and then shakily brought it up to her chest, holding it like a child would hold a security blanket. Miles would have laughed at her juvenile behavior if it wasn't so sad. _She had to grow up even faster than I did._ She closed her eyes and took several deep breaths, inhaling the scent of the leather, and when she reopened her eyes she saw that Miles had opened her briefcase and was looking through _HER_ research.

"Just _what_ do you think you're doing now, Miles Edgeworth?!" she heatedly questioned.

"What does it look like I'm doing? I'm preparing myself to replace you this morning," he matter-of-factly stated.

"NO! This is my case! My victory! My revenge on _all of you!_ " she raged. She began to raise her right arm in a gesture of anger, but the second she did so the pain tore through her body and cut her rant short. Miles sighed inwardly, then began to gently make his case. _I knew this would be more difficult than it really should be. She's always been tenaciously stubborn._

"Franziska, think logically. If no prosecutor arrives when court convenes, Engarde will be found not guilty and released. Looking at what you've compiled, that would be a miscarriage of justice. And, judging by that display a few seconds ago, you would not be able to argue your case effectively. You are in too much pain and you're still weak from blood loss. You'd likely pass out before lunch. So please, go get the bullet removed, get a blood transfusion, and recover," he argued. _Please listen, for your own sake, and for mine. I abandoned you once, I don't ever intend on doing it again. It's high time someone actually took care of you._ She bore an uncertain, hesitant expression, so he went to his ace in the hole. "And besides, if you do pass out, Phoenix Wright will have beaten you again."

That deflated her. She couldn't bring herself to audibly agree to this, so she simply nodded. They sat in silence for a few moments until the orderly arrived to prepare to transport her to the operating room. "I will ensure that you get a fresh set of clothes, Franziska," he said quietly, placing her purse in her arms. He knew she would not accept the indignity of a hospital gown.

"Miles, there is something you need to know," she croaked out. "Adrian Andrews did not kill Corrida. She foolishly altered the scene, but she is not a killer." That caught him off guard. Franziska generally was not cryptic in the way she spoke, so this was troubling. He'd have to read up on the crime scene and Adrian Andrews in greater detail before the trial began. "I see," he stated. "Is there anything else I should know?" She shook her head.

"Very well. I shall take my leave now," he announced, giving his traditional bow.

"Miles," she called softly, beckoning him to her. He leaned towards her, but was surprised when her good arm grabbed his shoulder and pulled him close to her. She leaned next to his ear and almost inaudibly whispered "Thank you."

He nodded and gently smiled, standing fully upright again. "Farewell, Franziska," he said as he picked up the briefcase. As he turned and headed to the exit, a grin came to his face as he heard a clang and the crack of a whip, followed by Franziska's voice excoriating the "foolish klutz of an orderly." _She'll be just fine._ He stopped at the desk to ensure that he and Caroline were listed as Franziska's contacts so he could get updates once the procedure was finished. After he had exited the hospital he pulled out his cell phone and dialed a number that Gumshoe had given him. The owner answered on the fourth ring.

"Hello, Officer Byrde? I require your assistance with something."

 _The end… for now_

 _ **A/N: Thanks so much for reading this! This is the first piece of fiction I have written in about 15 years, so I'm probably a little rusty. This is the first in a collection of Fredgeworth one-shots that I'll be working on, although writing is a little laborious for me so I'll update infrequently. Other stories will be a bit more dialogue driven than this one, but with this I wanted the silent, unspoken bond to show (well, that and Fran has a hole in her shoulder). If anyone has ideas, let me know. If the muse strikes, I'll give it a whirl.**_


	2. Social Outing

_**A/N: I live! I sincerely hope this tale is worth the wait! This chapter is dedicated to the lovely and talented JordanPhoenix. If you haven't read her work, I recommend that you check it out.**_

 _ **February 10, 2019**_

 _7:30pm_

 _Tres Bien Parking Lot_

Miles glanced over at Franziska's rigid form in the passenger's seat of his Alfa Romeo as it sat parked outside Tres Bien. He hadn't seen her so anxious since the day they had revealed their mutual feelings to each other five months ago. Her right hand was gripping the handle on the door so tightly that he worried that she would wind up breaking it off. He had an inkling as to the cause of it, but decided further clues were necessary to proceed down the required line of attack.

"Franziska, what has you so troubled?" he inquired.

"I'm certain you know the cause of my distress, Miles Edgeworth," she irritably replied.

 _I thought so._ Franziska had recently confessed during one of their nightly chess games that she did not like being around groups of people, especially in small spaces. He was honestly surprised that she had agreed to come along to this little get together following the trial of Iris Hawthorne. The only person besides himself in their circle that she had a friendly relationship with was Gumshoe. She still harbored a dislike for Wright. Larry was, well, Larry. She didn't really know Maya Fey.

 _So why DID she come along?_ He ran down the list of reasons in his head, but none rang as true. Finally it struck him like a thunderbolt, and it warmed his heart. _She came because it's important to me._ Franziska was a woman whose inner depths would never cease to interest him. She was outwardly cold and harsh, but behind the wall she deeply loved those who made the effort to know her.

He placed his hand into Franziska's gloved one and gently squeezed it. "It will be fine, Franziska," he kindly yet directly stated. She didn't look entirely convinced, but gave him a small smile of thanks. "Well, we may as well get this over with," she sighed resignedly. They walked to the entrance without holding hands, as their relationship was still a secret to all but Gumshoe, whom Miles had sworn to secrecy under penalty of a pay cut so large that he would have to pay to work.

Once in the door, their eyes were assaulted by the garish décor of the place. "It's so _pink!_ " Miles gasped out.

Franziska was struck dumb for a moment. The _Frenchness_ of the restaurant was an abomination to her German eyes. She knew by the name that she was in for French food, which she could easily enjoy if done well, but _this_ was a whole other story. But the thing that _really_ got her going was the wasted space. She even broke into a small rant at it. "This place is so inefficiently laid out! How can a group of people sit together in such a space?! Why would someone foolishly put a useless wall near the door?!"

Miles was secretly thankful for that wall, because he knew he was going to have to settle her down or else everyone's well being would be in danger, and if anyone saw him calming her _his_ well being would be in peril. He knew her real problem was aggravated social anxiety, so he did something that he had learned almost always relaxed her. He stood behind her and rubbed his thumbs firmly on the back of her shoulder blades. He felt the tension leave her shoulders as the rest of her rant died in her throat.

"Is that better?" he warmly asked. She slightly nodded, and proceeded to seat herself in the booth directly behind the wall. He took his place across from her and turned around to see who was present. He saw Detective Gumshoe eagerly chatting with Maggey Byrde, whose eyes glittered with amusement and affection at his presence. _It looks like he finally brought her around,_ Miles thought clinically with something that felt like friendly affection. He had always liked Gumshoe, even if he was a bit of a bumbler, and was glad to see him happy.

His eyes roved further across the room and came to rest on the familiar, aggravating form of Larry Butz pathetically sucking up to a pretty young woman with a bandage around her head. _Has Larry really sunk so far to try to seduce a woman with a head injury?_ Somehow his opinion of Larry dove even further into the abyss that it normally dwelled in. He chanced a glance to Franziska who was boring a hole through the hapless wannabe Casanova. Evidently he and his lady shared the same opinion of his old friend.

Maggey finally tore her eyes away from Gumshoe long enough to notice their presence and deliver them menus. She then promptly went back to Gumshoe's table in order to give them some space, or so she said. Miles didn't find that excuse particularly believable, but did not comment. Instead he was inwardly snickering at the look of displeasure on Franziska's face as she perused the menu.

"How can they not have beer?!" she cried out. _What kind of restaurant doesn't stock beer?! This is an outrage! What other sorts of calamities await me here?!_ _I should have known better than to trust Scruffy's culinary judgment!_

As Miles amusedly watched Franziska fret over not having her precious beer (she seldom had a meal without it), he heard the front door open and saw Wright enter with the Fey women. Pearl looked glum, Maya had a flagrantly fake smile plastered on her face, and Wright looked emotionally exhausted, which concerned him. Franziska apparently noticed as well, as her eyes followed them to their seats. Their eyes met, and an unspoken message passed between them: _We'll have to keep an eye on this._

Maggey returned a short time later to take their orders. Miles ordered lobster thermidor, while Franziska decided to play it safe (she hoped) and ordered steak frites. After she left, Franziska opened her mouth to speak and was immediately interrupted by a sobbing Larry throwing himself into the seat next to Miles.

"Edgey, it's so unfaiiiiir! I just wanted to ask Viola out, and she said if I ever spoke to her again she'd have my thumbs broken! Why doesn't any girl like meeeeeee?!" he wailed.

"Larry, has it ever occurred to you that you try too hard with women that are not interested? If you want a woman to treat you well, you cannot pathetically throw yourself at her without a shred of dignity," Miles peevishly replied. Then a crazy thought occurred to him from information he had learned through the grapevine.

"Why don't you pay Sister Iris a visit tomorrow morning? I'm sure she'd love to hear from you. I even hear she took a bit of a liking to you," he slyly suggested. What he did not expect was the look of sheer joy that broke across his childhood friend's face.

"She did?! _Thanks Edgey!_ She's such a cutie and is so sweet, I'd do anything for her, man! She stole my heart the second I saw her, dude!" Larry exclaimed joyfully as he wrapped his arms around Miles' shoulders briefly in gratitude. Miles was so amazed at his old friend's swift mood swing that he didn't even comment on the fact that Larry had grabbed him, normally a _massive_ no-no. _Does he really care for her? This isn't his usual skirt chasing demeanor._ He looked at Franziska and was reassured by the rare soft look in her eye hidden in her otherwise neutral expression. He had discovered that Franziska had a bit of a sentimental side, and loved to see people be happy as long as she was not asked about it. She never showed her sentimentality outwardly, of course, but he was warmed that she had allowed her heart to bleed a little bit after everything she had been through. He was proud of her.

He was so engrossed in reflecting on her progress that he did not notice Larry's departure after another round of inane babbling and barely saw Maggey approaching with their food. After Maggey departed, the couple was left in stunned silence as their trained eyes scrutinized the fare served to them. To say it didn't pass visual muster was an understatement. It was more like visual food poisoning.

Miles' poor lobster was mangled beyond recognition, and it looked like the meat was topped with ugly processed cheese instead of the grated fresh mozzarella usually called for. The egg yolks were not mixed in properly either. He suddenly found himself losing his appetite, as he'd rather go hungry than eat such a poorly prepared dish. _Who could possibly treat such a magnificent dish like this? I haven't seen such disrespect given to food in my entire life!_

Franziska's steak and fries were even more of a travesty. The fries looked as if they had the consistency of noodles, as they wilted like a dead flower the second Franziska picked them up. Out of curiosity, she bit into one. It was the most horrible taste she had experienced since she accidentally had gotten her hair in her mouth in the shower with the shampoo still in it (that was her final day with long hair). The steak had the appearance of a hockey puck, round and black. But when she touched it, it felt cold. Out of curiosity, she picked up her steak knife and cut the steak in half to reveal a raw center. _Oh, that is the very last straw! Absurd décor, terrible layout, expensive menu, no beer, and NOW RAW MEAT?! Scruffy, you didn't research this place, did you? You just wanted to spend time with your crush!_

"Excuse me, Miles, I am going to have a talk with the cook about this abomination of a meal," she bit out as she rose without waiting for a reply, not that one was forthcoming. He was too busy glaring at his lobster with an expression of sadness and anger to notice.

As she made her way back towards the kitchen, she caught Gumshoe out of the corner of her eye. In a fit of pique, she stormed towards him and brought her whip down on his hand.

"OWWWWWW, SIR! Sorry, sir!" the burly detective yelped. "What did I do to deserve that, sir?!"

"You insisted that we congregate here, Scruffy! Look at what I was served! Miles' food is just as wretched!" she snarled out. _And stop calling me "sir"! Who am I, Peppermint Patty?!_

"Sorry, sir, this is the only restaurant I know! I don't eat out much, you know?"

Franziska didn't have a suitable reply for that little tidbit of information, so instead she pressed her lips together, nodded, and continued on her way. _Note to self, tell Miles to consider a salary increase for him, if only to avoid future situations like this._

She stormed into the kitchen and slammed her plate down get the chef's attention (she actually did it so hard her shoulder wound cried out in pain). When he turned around, she was confronted with the strangest looking human being she had ever seen. Between the pink, frilly outfit and the nearly impossible hair rolls, she was momentarily struck dumb. Then he opened his mouth, and instead of seeing pink, she saw red.

"Oh, 'ello, mademoiselle, 'ow may I 'elp yo- AIIIIEEEEE!"

"HOW DARE YOU CALL YOURSELF A CHEF WHEN YOU SERVE FOOD LIKE THIS?! WHAT KIND OF CHEF SERVES PROCESSED CHEESE ON A LOBSTER, SERVES LIMP, SOGGY POTATOES, AND THEN SENDS A CUSTOMER RAW MEAT?! ARE (crack!) YOU (crack!) TRYING (crack!) TO (crack!) KILL (crack!) ME!"

"OWWWWWW! But mademoiselle, I serve meat rare to maintain fla- (crack!) OWWWW!"

"THERE'S A DIFFERENCE BETWEEN RARE AND RAW, YOU FOOLISHLY FOOLISH FOOL OF A MAN! IF I WANTED IT RAW I'D ASK FOR IT THAT WAY! YOU'RE LUCKY I DIDN'T ORDER PORK OR I'D TRULY BE UPSET!"

A wiser man would have simply conceded and found any way to appease the raging, whip-wielding German hellcat, but alas the chef was not such a man. Instead, he decided to wave a cape in front of the bull.

"If 'zis is 'ow 'ou are normally, I'd 'ate to zee 'ou ang- (CRACK!) AAAAAAAARRRRRGH!"

The man didn't get to finish his rejoinder, as Franziska's whip came crashing down in rage upon him with immense fervor to the point where he dropped to the ground like a sack of oats. She had not been _this_ angry in quite some time. She was so angry she actually used her right arm to bring extra force to bear, a decision she instantly regretted as her shoulder exploded into agony.

 _That hurt. That REALLY hurt. I think it's time to take my leave before I injure or embarrass myself further tonight._ She had just finished her thought when Miles came storming into the kitchen with his plate, bellowing "SIR, how dare you put crab meat in a lobster she- oh."

He surveyed the now unconscious chef and noted that the whip marks on his arms and face belied the cause of his condition. He would have felt sympathy under normal circumstances, but this man had committed a culinary crime in his eyes by trying to pass off crab meat as lobster by cramming it into a lobster's shell. His gaze shifted from the marshmallow-like man to Franziska, who was grasping her right shoulder with a grimace on her face.

"I hope that lash was worth aggravating your shoulder, Franziska," he chided. That shoulder had been bothering her since the day she was shot (a day he'd rather not think about), and he often blamed himself for it since she left the hospital at his request before she had fully recovered to save his case, Wright's sanity, and Maya's life while also bringing Matt Engarde to justice. Of course, being a workaholic to the point of lunacy, she refused to take any time away to rehab her shoulder, choosing to suffer through every task that required her to use her right arm. It was fortunate that she was left-handed, but even putting on her shirt or tying her cravat caused discomfort. One of these days he was going to go over her head and have the Chief Prosecutor order her to take a leave to get the needed therapy. She'd be angry, but it would be worth it.

"Take me home, Miles," she softly replied. Miles understood there were many unspoken depths behind her request, as she seldom asked for anything. _I'm tired, I'm hungry, I'm in pain, I've been around people I don't particularly like, and I don't feel like I belong here._

"As you wish, Franziska," he answered, gently massaging her shoulder. "Take a moment to collect yourself. I'll be speaking with Wright and the Feys until you are ready."

She nodded, and Miles turned and left the kitchen. She sat on one of the stools and rubbed her shoulder until the ache began to subside. About 5 minutes had passed, when a groan from the chef attracted her attention. She stood up, walked over, and glowered at him one final time.

"I recommend you find a new line of work, sir. You're not cut out for haute cuisine," she sneered with evident disdain. She had apparently beaten the ridiculous accent out of him, as his faux French had vanished when he answered.

"How can you say that, ma'am? I just had a bad day!" he pitifully croaked out. In irritation, Franziska ground the heel of her boot on his nose with a snarl.

"You clearly lack the basic knowledge and talent to run a successful restaurant, especially in the kitchen. Did you believe that my dining partner would not notice that you had served him crab disguised as lobster? Did you believe anyone would find that meat acceptable? You have no standards and you don't challenge yourself to be better. You do not belong in a professional kitchen. Good evening, sir!"

With that, she removed her boot and turned to leave. As she headed to the door, she shivered as her actions hit her in the spine. _It's been a long time since I did something like that. I can feel the coldness rushing through me. Was this what I was like when Miles disappeared? Cold, sadistic, ruthless, and cruel? Just how far gone was I?_

She cleared her mind as she entered the dining room, and saw Miles standing next to Phoenix Wright's table, and it was not a pretty scene. Wright was face down on the table with a wine bottle in his hand, Maya had her arm around him with a concerned look on her face, and poor Pearl looked like she was about to chew her thumb off.

Miles glanced towards Franziska, excused himself, and approached her with a serious expression furrowing his brow. "Franziska, I believe we may have to open our home to Wright and the Feys for tonight. Wright has had too much to drink and Ms. Fey is too exhausted from her recent ordeal to care for him in his condition."

Franziska threw a disapproving, anxious glance at the blue suited defense attorney. _How did I know that foolish man would exceed his alcohol tolerance tonight? Women's intuition, I suppose. But from what Miles has told me, he at least has reason to want to forget the last few days._ She stood silent and stone-faced for several seconds before quietly replying, "Very well, if you find it necessary."

Miles gently smiled and whispered, "Danke, meine Fran," and returned to Maya to let her know of the situation. Franziska was cheered inside at his reaction. He usually only called her Fran when they were in complete private. Evidently her consent to providing Phoenix, Maya and Pearl with a place to crash was immensely important to him. That made inviting her first houseguests since Manfred's arrest a little easier to deal with.

Miles helped the inebriated attorney to his feet and guided him out the door to his car while Franziska and the Feys trailed behind. After finagling Phoenix into the back seat, Maya and Pearl took their seats on either side of him, and Franziska noticed that Maya gathered Phoenix into her arms and cradled his head against her shoulder. She simply made a note of it as she closed her eyes as Miles drove them back to the mansion.

The ride back was completely silent, except for Phoenix occasionally sighing as he lolled his head on Maya's shoulder. Franziska glanced in the mirror and saw that Pearl had her hands over her eyes, peeking through them to observe her surrogate parents. Franziska was pensive. _Are they together or not? They clearly care for each other._

Her pondering was interrupted by their arrival at the estate she had inherited from her father. The mammoth Baroque style mansion had served as her home since she came to America, and Miles had taken up residence since he publicly reemerged during the Engarde trial. She adored the house, especially once she inflicted _damnatio memoriae_ on her father's images and namesakes throughout the house (it was a rare childish day when she and Miles had too much to drink and started doodling on Manfred's portrait from the kitchen before burning it).

Everyone exited Miles' car except for Phoenix, who had to be dragged out by Miles and Maya. Miles walked him through the entranceway and guided him towards the stairwell leading to the guest rooms. Franziska was about to instruct the Feys to follow Miles so they could take the next room, but as she started to speak her stomach growled. _Well, I haven't eaten in hours so this was to be expected._ Any further embarrassment was quickly averted by a roar from the stomach of Maya Fey.

"It appears we are both in need of food, Ms. Maya Fey. Follow me to the kitchen. I may not be a master chef, but I do know how to boil ramen noodles," Franziska directed. Ramen was one of her few "low class" guilty pleasures. She figured it would be a safe offering for her guest, but she didn't expect Maya's fist to shoot up into the air in celebration.

"Woo hoo! I've been craving some comfort food! Lead the way, Franny!" Maya exclaimed, before falling silent as she caught Franziska's glare.

" _Don't_ call me that, Ms. Maya Fey. If you must, you may call me Franziska, unless you desire to feel my wrath, is that clear?" she sternly instructed the now rapidly nodding spirit medium. As if on cue to break the tension, little Pearl Fey walked to Maya chewing on her thumb nervously.

"Um, Mystic Maya? I'm not feeling hungry, I helped myself to some food when I got back to the temple. Can I go up to our room?" the child asked with a small, docile voice.

Maya knelt down, embraced Pearl, then placed a hand on her shoulder and gently replied "Sure, Pearly, it's been a long day for us all. Get yourself settled in and I'll be up after I eat. Send me a message or ask Mr. Edgeworth if you need anything at all, ok?" The girl nodded, and took off up the steps.

Franziska immediately felt a touch of guilt for her harshness towards Maya, and allowed a kind smile to arrange itself on her face. Or, at least she hoped she did. She didn't really know what that felt like.

"Shall we proceed Ms. Maya Fey?"

"Yeah, I'm STARVING!"

"Very well. Follow me, then."

Maya obeyed, following the cantankerous German down the hallway into the large kitchen. Near the wall was a beautiful cherry wood table, furnished with plush chairs. Maya promptly plopped herself into one of the chairs with a heavy sigh. "It's great to take a load off! I felt like I was so tired I was about to fall over!" Maya gleefully said to nobody in particular as she settled herself into the soft cushions.

"It has, as you said, indeed been a long day for us all, Ms. Maya Fey," Franziska tiredly replied as she ran water into a pot and retrieved some noodles. _At least I only had to bang my head off the wall trying to undo those wretched locks. How is she even sitting here talking as if nothing has happened to her?_

"Why do you do that?" Maya asked with piqued interest.

"Do what?" Franziska answered, without turning around.

"Address people by their full names? It's something I've noticed you do to nearly everyone you meet except Mr. Edgeworth and Detective Gumshoe," Maya said.

 _THAT'S a loaded question. I doubt she'd even believe the truth. At least, I was always led to think I wouldn't be believed._ "It is the way I was taught to speak to those I do not know well. In my father's home, there was always to be a degree a separation when it came to non-family acquaintances," Franziska answered, hoping Maya would accept the partial explanation.

Maya sat back in her chair with mild surprise at the Psyche Lock that appeared over Franziska's heart when she answered. _There's something she's not telling. But why would she hide something as innocuous as a verbal tic? Maybe there's something here to help me press a little._ She looked around and as she looked up she noticed that the wall near the table was slightly brighter than the rest of the room, as if something had been hanging there. _Hmm, maybe a picture? Not enough to go on, though._ She continued to look around and saw two small holes in the wall about 10 inches apart. They looked as if what was previously there had been forcibly torn out rather than simply removed. _Maybe I'll ask about that._

"What used to be in those holes in the wall, Franziska?" Maya asked, hoping she's get an answer.

Franziska slowed as she turned the stove on and placed the pot over the flame. _You're a persistent one aren't you? And something tells me you know for certain that I lied by omission earlier. Very well, let's see if you can connect the dots, spirit medium!_ "Hooks to hold a long, thin object. I always found them dangerous to have in a kitchen, especially when children would eat here," she guardedly said.

 _I was afraid of that. Time to reveal my unfortunate conclusion._ Maya thought with sadness. "Your father would hit you with whatever hung there when you didn't address people the way he wanted, didn't he? That's why you tore the hooks out of the wall. And that's why whatever picture that hung here for years is gone," she said firmly, yet with immense empathy. _That's why she hits people when they mess up, I bet. She was subjected to it, so everyone else should be, too._

Franziska turned around and stood completely still, staring at the strangely perceptive girl with a practiced, unreadable expression. However, Maya saw the Psyche Lock shatter.

 _Clever girl,_ Franziska thought. _I had kept that secret from all but Miles and Caroline for my entire life, and she unraveled it with two simple deductions and two basic questions. Maybe she's the actual brains behind Phoenix Wright's ramshackle operation._

"Well done," she finally said before walking to the refrigerator and removing a bottle of her favorite wheat beer and a cold glass from it. She took a seat across from Maya, then did something which amazed the spirit medium. She removed her brooch, used it to open the bottle, and then replaced it on her blouse. _Wait, that thing doubles as a bottle opener?!_ Maya's internal disbelief was temporarily broken when Franziska asked what she wanted to drink. She answered with a request for water and sat there staring at the bottle cap until Franziska returned with a glass bottle of water, to the point that she didn't even notice that Franziska had resumed her seat.

"You appear to be rather interested in that bottle cap, Ms. Maya Fey," Franziska said without even attempting to make eye contact as she poured the amber liquid into the glass.

"I just didn't expect to see you open it with your brooch, that's all!" Maya exclaimed in bewilderment.

"There are many things about all of us that are unexpected, Ms. Maya Fey. I simply like to be prepared at all times," Franziska answered with her usual sly smirk.

"Please, call me Maya! I insist on it!" Maya pleaded. _I can't stand the impersonal nature of the full name thing! It's like I'm a museum exhibit or something! And it's even worse now that I know it was literally beaten into her!_

"As you wish, Maya," Franziska uncomfortably answered as she took her first sip. Miles, Caroline and Adrian were the only people she called by their first name, so this would take some getting used to.

"Awesome!" Maya gleefully cried, then something odd struck her. "Wait, how do you even get to drink beer? Aren't you underage?"

"I am of legal age in Germany. I have been able to buy and drink beer since my 16th birthday. I buy it from a German distributor and have it sent here. Fortunately the State of California is not interested in private alcohol consumption habits," Franziska said with another smirk. _Although today was the first time I'd eaten dinner at a restaurant in the United States, or at least attempted to. Maybe it was for the better that that wretched place didn't serve beer. I doubt Miles would have let it pass unchallenged._

Maya made a quick noise of understanding, then took a big gulp of water. _I didn't realize how thirsty I was. I guess being possessed by a demon dehydrates the human body._

"My turn to ask a blunt personal question, Maya. What do you feel towards Mr. Phoenix Wright?" Franziska asked, peering at Maya over the rim of her glass. _Probably not tactful, but I've never been concerned with that. Besides, she started this whole line of personal talk with a stranger, so what's good for the goose is good for the gander. And I've now become curious._

Maya almost performed a spit take as she floundered around trying to adjust to the complete turnabout in the conversation. She finally stammered out "Um, well, uh, I don't really know!"

"You don't know? How do you not know? You've practically lived with him for well over a year now," Franziska said. She was not going to let Maya wriggle away that easily, and besides she was a sucker for a good piece of gossip she could share with Miles. And there was no better gossip than his old friend's love life!

"I know, but we've never talked about anything like that. I've been too afraid to bring anything up, because what we have now is a beautiful friendship and I don't want to risk losing it by taking anything to that level," Maya answered with a forlorn sigh.

"But you've considered it?" Franziska evenly asked as she took another sip.

"Yes, I have. We've already been through so much together, and I owe him my life several times over. He's been so impossibly good to me and Pearly that I couldn't help but fall for him at least a little bit. But I can't convince myself to bring it up," Maya explained as she took a sip herself.

"Can you keep a secret, Maya?" Franziska asked. Maya nodded, so she continued. "It took Miles and I almost losing each other forever to finally admit that we loved each other," Franziska revealed. _I still don't really know why I'm being so open with her. There's something about her that is so trustworthy and decent that I can't help it._

"Wait, you and Mr. Edgeworth are together?! Like _together_ , together?!" Maya sputtered, receiving only an almost imperceptible nod from Franziska in reply. _THAT was unexpected! I honestly didn't think either of them were capable of a romantic relationship! I thought living with her father had driven all capacity for that deep kind of love out of both of them._ "Well, uh, congrats to you both!" she added hastily.

"Thank you. But I told you as a cautionary tale. I thought Miles had killed himself over a year ago, and that was the sole reason I came here. Not for my father, but for him. I needed to either find him or gain closure regarding his death. During the Engarde investigation, our paths crossed again, and I learned that he was alive. I was furious and humiliated, yet relieved at the same time. I was shot the next morning. Six inches to the left and the bullet would have severed my spine. That whole ordeal finally got the two of us to stop kicking the can down the road," Franziska said, not taking her eyes from Maya's the entire time. "You both have had close calls recently, and failing to reveal the truth to each other will only hurt the other if your luck runs out."

"I know," Maya said with a resigned sigh. "I just wish I could be a little more confident in how he felt about me. I often feel like he only puts up with me out of his obligation to Sis."

Franziska leaned back, fixing Maya with another of her unsettling stares. "Have you actually watched the Engarde trial, Maya?" she asked pointedly.

"No, I've tried to forget it! You're likely the only one who had a worse time with that case than I did!" Maya answered with a degree of indignation.

"Well, then, I get to let the cat out of the bag. Phoenix Wright used every underhanded trick in the book to drag that trial out and even tried pinning the blame on Adrian Andrews in a desperate attempt to save your life, to the point that not even your sister could approve of what he was doing. Indeed, even earlier this week, he tried running across that rickety bridge when it was on fire in an effort to rescue you. So tell me, is that the action of someone acting out of obligation?" Franziska triumphantly retorted. Then what she was doing dawned on her. _Wait, when did I become a matchmaker?!_ Fortunately, she saw the steam rising from the pot out of the corner of her eye and rose to place their noodles in the water before Maya could answer.

As Franziska busied herself with the task of stirring noodles, Maya sat dumbfounded by what Franziska had revealed. _I told him to get that jerk a guilty verdict no matter what! He eventually did, but he was ready to even throw away his ethical code and his sense of justice to save MY life?! Oh, Nick, just what did De Killer and Engarde do to you, and why do you absolutely refuse to tell me?! And then there's Pearly! God only knows just how much Pearly really understood about my situation. I've never asked her about anything that happened during that case, I don't want to bring up even more bad memories for my little girl. She has suffered so much already, far too much for someone so young. Really, so many of those close to me have been hurt. I'm cursed, and my family is cursed. Maybe that's one of the ways I kind of understand Franziska. Her name has been sullied by her father's crimes and manipulations that were far out of her control. Her lineage has twisted plots and murder woven through it just like mine does._ _Sometimes it's just too much to bear. I try to keep it all on the inside for Nick's sake and for Pearly's, but I'm only human. I have to let it out, I feel like it's ripping me apart, and I can hold it in no longer._

Franziska had added the seasoning to the noodles when she heard a sniffle from behind her. She spun around and saw that Maya Fey was openly weeping. _Oh no, what did I say? I didn't say anything too horrible, did I? What do I do now?!_ As she stood rooted in place, she noticed that Maya had wrapped her arms around her waist the same way Franziska herself did when she was stressed. A thought came to her, and it did not appeal to her at all. _But desperate times call for desperate measures, I suppose. It simply won't do to have a guest sobbing in my home._

With a tired, quiet, exasperated sigh, Franziska moved towards Maya and stood about three paces away from her. When Maya looked up, Franziska stiffly extended her arms towards her with something that looked like a cross between a smile and a grimace on her face. Maya stared at her for a few long seconds, then quickly threw herself into Franziska's arms and started bawling her eyes out.

She wept for her beloved sister, struck down in the prime of life.

She wept for her Nick, who had put his reputation on the line multiple times to defend her when nobody else would, and had suffered great injury and even tempted death in order to protect her.

She wept for her little Pearly, essentially orphaned by her incredibly selfish parents and left to be raised by a cousin and her lawyer companion, and then was manipulated by her own mother to try to lead said cousin to her doom.

She wept for her cousin Iris, likely abused into submission by her sadistic, cruel twin sister, who would now be going to jail for being an accomplice to murder, a murder orchestrated to protect her and Pearl.

She wept for Diego, who loved Mia so deeply that he lost his life's purpose when he awoke to learn of her murder. He would be going to jail for a killing he committed to protect her younger sister.

She wept for her mother, who left their home to protect her and Mia from the fallout of DL-6 and then sacrificed her life for her, even though she had not seen her daughter in well over a decade.

She wept for Miles Edgeworth, who risked his career to help her and her family, even though they had brought him nothing but pain and defeat that drove him to disappear for an entire year.

And she wept for the young woman awkwardly holding her at the moment, Franziska von Karma. She had learned a great deal about her over the last few minutes, and it completely turned her opinion of her around. Instead of a cruel, heartless perfectionist, Maya saw a long-suffering, lonely young woman who was in desperate need of honest friendship and love but had been denied both for many years.

Franziska simply stood rigid as Maya sobbed into her vest, before finally wrapping her arms around Maya's back and rubbing gently. It was the first time she had attempted to show comfort in her life, and she was unsure of how to proceed.

After a few minutes, Maya's crying slowed and stopped. She simply stood in Franziska's arms for a few silent moments. She then deeply embraced her and quietly murmured "Thank you, Franziska. You truly have no idea how much I needed that." With that, she stepped away from her and began to make her way back to the table.

Franziska took several moments to find her voice. She had not had an emotional moment like that with anyone except Miles, and it was frankly somewhat frightening. Once she was able to speak, she stammered out a "you're welcome" before turning to pour the noodles into the bowls. As she looked down, she noticed a spot on her vest that was soaked with tears. She couldn't stand a spot on her clothes, even in private, so she took the vest off and laid it flat on the far side of the table once she had placed the bowls down. Maya immediately took her fork and shoved a large clump of noodles into her maw, while Franziska carefully spun them against the spoon. After both had eaten a mouthful, Maya spoke up.

"How to you do that?" she asked.

 _Sigh. More questions. This is exhausting._ "Do what?" was the reply. _I'm getting a feeling of déjà vu here. And I can't imagine this is going to be any more pleasant for me than the last conversation._

"Eat with gloves on? It looks difficult. I presume there's a reason, right?" Maya inquired.

"There is. I have worn gloves since my youth. Think about what we have discussed earlier," Franziska answered with a nervous quality in her voice. _Why must you go there? Haven't you tormented me enough tonight, foolish woman?! Yet I somehow cannot just tell her to not pry. I guess I trust her?_

Maya's voice caught in her throat as sadness and empathy washed over her. _No, he couldn't have been THAT cruel, could he? To harm your child to the point where she believes she always has to cover her hands? He truly was every bit as awful as Nick and I thought._ Maya took a moment, then spoke.

"Well, you don't have to cover yourself up on my account. And actually, I carry a mark from Manfred von Karma, too!" Maya said encouragingly.

"You do?" Franziska asked a degree of disbelief.

"Yeah!" Maya exclaimed. With that she pulled her tunic to the side exposing her right shoulder area. Just below the collarbone were two marks that Franziska quickly recognized as coming from Manfred's taser. She bore some of those scars herself. "See?"

Franziska leaned back, taking another swig of beer. _I guess I have nothing to hide now. Here goes nothing…_ With reluctance, she pulled her gloves off of her trembling hands and exposed them on the table for Maya to see.

Maya was floored by what she saw, but managed to tamp her reaction down before Franziska saw it. There were thin white scars spider webbed across her palms and fingers, and they appeared to be too numerous to count. _My God! How many times did he hit her?! There are dozens of these! And these were only the ones hard enough to break skin!_ She risked a glance up and saw Franziska's eyes unseeingly staring at her hands. Maya gently placed her hands on Franziska's and got Franziska to look at her.

"Listen to me very carefully. It wasn't your fault. No matter what you did, it would have wound up the same way. No one could have met the standards he put on you. He would have kept moving the goalposts until he had an excuse to hurt you. You did not deserve it. _Any_ of it," Maya firmly yet compassionately said directly into Franziska's eyes. _I think I get you now, Franziska. Or at least I'm starting to. You're still trapped against the standard of perfection, almost expecting to be struck by a bolt of lightning any time you make a mistake even though he's gone. And all this time, nobody except Mr. Edgeworth supported you, and he had his own issues to handle. You've been all alone, and the man who was supposed to love you and guide you instead beat you and tore you down._

Franziska could not tear her eyes away from Maya as she digested her speech. _I wish I could believe her. I really, truly do. Maybe someday I will. But that day is not today. I still have far too many sins to atone for._ She removed her hands from underneath Maya's and reclaimed her drink. She sat back, took a long drink, and Maya saw Franziska's mask go back up as the vulnerability vanished. "Perhaps," she finally said. "But what's done is done, and there's no changing it. Now then, let us eat before our fare gets cold."

Maya wasn't particularly thrilled with Franziska's answer, but figured it would be the best she'd get tonight. _Rome wasn't built in a day, I guess. But her ability to throw that mask up is unnerving. I guess that's what years of practice will do._ _Damn you, Manfred. Why would you not love and cherish this girl like she deserved?_ Shaking out of her musings, she resumed attacking her noodles.

The rest of the meal passed in relative silence. Maya finished first, and reclined back rubbing her stomach. "I sometimes forget how good ramen is. That hit the spot!" she lazily said to nobody in particular.

"It is a bit of a guilty pleasure, isn't it?" Franziska said with a ghost of a smile.

"Yeah, it is," Maya said, rising from her chair and taking the bowls to the sink. Franziska also stood up and stretched in tiredness. As she finished, she saw that Maya had walked right next to her. Maya stood still for a moment, and then stepped forward and embraced her.

"Thank you, Franziska," she said.

"I assure you, Maya, boiling ramen is such a simple task that it does not require thanks," she uncomfortably answered.

"No, not for that! Well, I guess I'm thanking you for the grub, but for much more. You saved my life when you ran to the courthouse with an unhealed gunshot wound in your shoulder. You spent a whole night in the cold working to rescue Iris. You gave me a shoulder to cry on when I needed it most. Thank you, thank you so much!" Maya said with every ounce of gratitude she possessed.

Franziska was touched, but had little idea of how to answer, so she simply accepted her thanks. _I guess this means she forgives me for prosecuting her for murder._ Then something occurred to her. "I may have something for you to help you when you finally speak to Phoenix Wright." She reached for her vest and fished out a small, rectangular object. She handed it to Maya, whose eyes grew to the size of dinner plates has she took it with a degree of reverence.

 _That's the card I drew when I was kidnapped! I was wondering what had happened to it! She's had it all this time and didn't send it to me?! Then again, she's been all over the world so she hasn't had a chance to make a special delivery. And given what I know about her, I doubt she'd make an uninvited visit anywhere out of the blue, and something like this I doubt she would send by mail. I guess this is how it was meant to be. That's it, I'm cornering Nick the first chance I get. We've beaten about the bush for far too long._

"Yes, I think this will help. Thank you again, Franziska. I think it's time for me to hit the hay, I'm exhausted. Good night!" Maya said as she headed toward the stairwell leading up to the bedrooms.

Franziska watched Maya leave and then sat down and put her head in her hands, trying to make sense of what had occurred over the last half hour or so. _Did I just make a friend? I think I did. And not only a friend, but one I instantly confided all of my deepest secrets to. She is so incredibly kind and I can tell she is completely trustworthy. She does not have an ounce of guile or malice in her at all. She probably regrets swatting houseflies. And she's so decent that she is even kind to an angry, bitter person like me, someone who doesn't deserve such treatment. Well, I'll take what I can get, I suppose._

She felt herself tiring rapidly. The stress of trying to undo the locks, the anxiety of the night out, the aggravation of her shoulder injury, and her emotionally intense conversation with Maya combined with alcohol had left her drained. With a yawn she placed her glass in the sink and started to fill it and the bowls and the pot with water to let them soak overnight. As she did so, she heard a small voice behind her.

"M-Ms. von Karma?" the voice timidly asked.

 _Now what?! Am I to get no peace tonight?!_ Franziska thought. "Yes, Ms. Pearl Fey?" she answered.

"I-I listened to your talk with Mystic Maya. You really helped her tonight. She's been hurting so much, Mr. Nick and I have been really worried about her. I-I wanted to say I'm sorry for being mean to you before. You're a much better person than just the mean whip lady. I see that now," Pearl said, smiling warmly. Then she put her hands on her cheeks and swooned. "And also, you're helping Mr. Nick and Mystic Maya truly realize that they are Special Someones! It's so romantic!" she cried out with a wistful sigh.

"That is appreciated. But shouldn't you be in your room? Your cousin will be looking for you," Franziska said stiffly.

"I don't think that will be an issue, Ms. von Karma. Mystic Maya's smart, but she has a lousy sense of direction. She's probably on the other side of the house right now," Pearl answered with a giggle. "I'll probably get back in plenty of time before she tracks our room down."

Pearl then galloped to Franziska and wrapped her arms around her leg. "Thank you for listening to Mystic Maya. And thank you for saving her. She and Mr. Nick are everything to me. If it wasn't for you and Mr. Ed-ji-worth, they would have been taken from me too. I can never thank the two of you enough."

 _I've never been thanked for anything in my life, and now I'm getting thanked twice in a day. Strange times, indeed._ "It was no trouble, little one. But your thanks are accepted. Now I must insist that you get back to your room before your cousin wanders her way to it. I don't think you want your absence to worry her," Franziska said, gently patting the child on the head.

"No, of course not! I'll start back now! Thank you again, Ms. von Karma!", she squeaked out, then turned and sped off towards the main stairwell.

Franziska leaned back against the sink in exhaustion. _I think I had better get to bed before anyone else comes to hassle me._ Before she left, she looked at the spot on the wall where her father's portrait had hung. _I think Mama's portrait from the house in Germany will go well there. I'll have it sent first thing tomorrow morning._ She finally gathered her vest and gloves and headed toward the master suite that she and Miles shared.

Sure enough, Maya was wandering through the hallways aimlessly, just as Pearl had predicted. Fortunately Pearl poked her head out the door and got her attention which saved her cousin from any further confusion. Franziska stifled a small chuckle, then swiftly darted into her door and closed it behind her, exhaling in relief that she could finally be in private with her companion and not be interacting with comparative strangers.

The master's suite was more like a complete apartment within the mansion, consisting of a leisure area where the television, their favorite books, and their precious chessboard resided, a small kitchen, the bedroom (complete with a reading nook for Franziska) and an attached bathroom. It was a true sanctuary for both Franziska and Miles, a place where the barriers could come down and they could simply be themselves, not the prosecutors that everyone but a very select few knew them as.

Franziska removed her boots from her sore feet and neatly placed them next to Miles' shoes near the door, then made her way to their bedroom. When she entered, Miles was in their bed seated upright with his current book, _The Writings and Speeches of Cicero_ (in the native Latin, of course).

"I see you finally got away from Maya," he said with a chuckle.

"She is indeed a talkative one," Franziska answered with a tired laugh as she placed her gloves on her dresser and hanging her whip on the hook next to her mirror. She'd have to send her vest to the dry cleaner, so she draped it over the back of her reading chair. She then removed her brooch and undid her cravat, while also pulling out her sleepwear from her dresser. "I'll be out shortly, Miles," she said as she entered the bathroom.

Miles closed his book and thought about the day, as he often did while Franziska was performing her nightly routine. She was nothing if not a creature of habit, and so he knew she'd be out in exactly 7 minutes, which was plenty of time for him to settle his mind.

 _Today was quite an experience. From family secrets to encounters from beyond the grave, there was enough in today's proceedings to last someone a lifetime! I will have to discuss with Franziska what to do with Iris and Godot, but that shall wait until we return to the Prosecutor's Office. We agreed that work shall not be discussed in our bedroom, and I intend to honor that._

 _And then there is the other Hawthorne girl. I believe that we have yet to uncover the depths of her crimes. There are many unsolved murders here in Los Angeles, and I have a hunch that she may be responsible for some of them. We'll have to find any and all of her possible aliases and work from there._

 _But that too shall have to wait. I am more interested in my lady's rare social interactions this evening. I've been gently prodding at her shell recently in the hopes that she can get to the point where we can at least go out to dinner together regularly. Perhaps her little sitdown with Maya will help her with that._

He heard the sink shut off in the bathroom, which meant that Franziska would be emerging within 30 seconds, so got himself settled in and awaited her arrival. Sure enough, Franziska exited the bathroom precisely 30 seconds later and swiftly stepped into their bed. Surprisingly, she immediately laid her head over Miles' chest. She'd usually keep her distance and get comfortable before initiating any physical touch.

Miles gently massaged her scalp as she took several deep relaxing breaths. _My poor Fran. She's had a rough go, apparently. But she's held up fairly well from the looks of things, especially considering she nearly had a meltdown at the so-called restaurant._ "Do you want to tell me about it?" he asked quietly.

 _He knows me too well already,_ she thought. She took another deep breath to rally her courage, and told him the whole story. She simply stared at a spot on the wall and almost robotically recollected the encounter. She was too exhausted to do anything else.

Miles simply laid and listened without comment, lightly caressing her back and embracing her as she recited the entire conversation. Internally, he was amazed that Maya had earned Franziska's trust to the point that she revealed some of the secrets of her youth. Franziska normally guarded any information regarding her mistreatment at her father's hands with great zeal. He knew that there was a part of her that still believed she deserved it. He made a mental note to buy Maya some special Steel Samurai memorabilia as a gift of thanks for at least attempting to get that poisonous idea out of Franziska's head.

When she finished, Miles drew her closer, kissed her forehead, and simply said, "I'm proud of you. That could not have been easy."

"It wasn't," was the reply. "Now then, Miles, what did you busy yourself with while I was entertaining out guest?"

He chuckled, then said, "Not much really. I dragged Wright's inebriated carcass to the Blue Room, took off his shoes, jacket, and tie, and laid him down to sleep off the alcohol. I then returned here, ate something small, and engrossed myself in Cicero's prosecution of Catiline."

Franziska blinked. "The Blue Room? That room only has one bed and a small fold-out bed for a child."

"I know," Miles said, laughing openly now. "That was the plan."

She blinked again, then started laughing herself. _Oh, that is devious! He's going to make Phoenix and Maya sleep in the same bed. And we can rest easy that nothing will happen too quickly because Pearl will be in the room. Simply brilliant._

"That was most insidious, Miles. That's one of the many things I love about you," she said, kissing him deeply yet chastely. They were both too tired for any other activity.

Miles looked into Franziska's eyes and saw the fatigue in them. He kissed her again and said, "And I love many, many traits of yours, milady. Now I believe it is time to get the sleep we both desperately require." He was not at one hundred percent either, as he was still recovering from the bump his head took when it hit the ground after his drop attack during the earthquake.

Franziska nodded, rolled over, and allowed the wondrous softness of her pillow to flood her mind and relax her tired body. As she drifted to sleep, she felt Miles wrap his arm around her and pull her back against his chest. The last thing she thought before falling asleep was: _It's good to be loved._

 _The end... for now._

 ** _A/N: Thanks for reading! If you liked it and want more, leave a review!_**


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